National Representative
by MayAnny
Summary: Cal Lightman and his team have an Assassination Case to solve, and a bunch of strange politicians are the suspects. Whoever heard of a 'National Representative' anyway? One-Shot.
**A/N: I can't believe I'm the first writing this. Why didn't anyone do so before?! I mean, man, the possibilities!**

 **Possibilities I'm _not_ exploring, because I have no time. I already have a fic, but eh, it's a challenge I guess. I see that it might be a little difficult to actually figure out what happened in this mystery, or more importantly, to write it down in a coherent manner, especially with these settings.**

 **Anyone who doesn't know, Lie to Me is a TV Show about reading lies, basically. While Hetalia is a comedy/parody anime show, about anthropomorphic representations of countries. Anyone who has read my Hetalia fic, _News Feed_ , would know that I don't take the comedy route, I like to go to the serious side, using mostly a realistic portrayal of what the Nations would truly be like in _our_ world. So, no comedy, or romance. **

**So no romance here.**

 **Anyway, I hope I didn't miss any grammar mistakes. This is just my first one-shot ever.**

 **THIS IS A STORY WITH NO CONCLUSIVE ENDING. I'm willing to let anyone take the challenge and write a way to solve the mystery.**

* * *

 **National Representative**

* * *

It really wasn't every day that Cal Lightman and his team of specialists found themselves in the middle of a government scandal. It has happened before, sure, but nothing like this...

 _An assassination._

"It's an international meeting, it involved American politicians, some ambassadors from other countries, and nearly all _National Representatives._ " This was said by a man in an immaculate black suit, wearing dark glasses reading over a report. Secret Service.

Cal raised an eyebrow, hands in his pockets. This must be a huge deal if even the Secret Service was hanging around. There were three in front of them, all immaculate and blending in with the five-star decor of the hotel.

"Wait," Locker started, tilting his head and frowning. "Isn't an ambassador the _same_ as a National Representative?" He asked as if the agent had somehow mispronounced the information.

The suited man wasn't fazed. "No, sir."

Locker nodded in resignation and backed away. Another agent to the left pulled some papers from his suit. "The President has signed your team a permission to interrogate any Representative, however, you will require a permission from the United States' Representative as well."

"Oh, they must be so worried." Cal said casually, being handed the papers and giving them nothing but a cursory glance. "Now tell me," He then approached the railing, where they could see the lobby below, thriving with people, _politicians_. "Are these people the Representatives?"

"Yes, sir."

Cal frowned, then looked back at the agents. "Why are they so _young_?"

"We cannot disclose any information until you've gained permission from the U.S. Representative and until you and your team have signed the appropriate non-disclosure agreements for this investigation."

This time, both of his eyebrows rose. Secret Service agents are so stoic, they barely move... Still, he saw the minimal movements that they are unable to suppress. It's a shame he can't see their eyes, though.

They're tense, heads tilting towards the door, as if itching to check on something, or someone. Cal shared a glance with Locker and then looked back at the young people.

It was unacceptable that these people ended up locked at the meeting place, as the U.S. government couldn't _possibly_ leave them uncomfortable in any way shape or form, despite the _assassination_ _of a government senator_ , so now, they were at a hotel, the best in D.C., and it was now closed to civilians. The Lightman Group was the only one there other than politicians and Secret Service men, along with minimal hotel staff.

The people he could see were all incredibly young men and women, where one in every five or six men were women. They were in the middle of a cold winter, so they were all dressed as such, nearly everyone wearing or holding a coat, all in dark colors that day.

He saw a blond girl who couldn't be older than his daughter, Emily, near a scowling man with similar features, a brother most likely. What was a child even doing amongst politicians? He could see it from his spot, the hand on the girl's shoulder, _protective_ , as the man vigilantly surveyed the room with a mild scorn.

No one seemed to care. Cal frowned.

Many others seemed to be enclosed in small groups.

A few notable ones were a small group of Asians, with a short young man with hair tied in a low ponytail, giving admonishing frowns and hissed words whenever his two younger companions, a teenage boy and girl, tried to leave his side; or the one with an impossible-to-miss man, too tall and with Slavic features, who smiled nervously as he tried to inch away from a much smaller young lady with a bow on her long hair, wearing a knee-length dress, and with another lady with even more impossible-to-miss _assets_.

Locker had been staring at her for quite a few seconds now.

Overall, they were all either talking in hushed tones, with the few odd ones completely alone, watching everyone else or on their phones.

"They can just use their phones like this?" Locker asked distractedly, tearing his eyes away from the Slavic lady and now watching a man wearing a black coat and dark glasses hiding the eyes, who looked distinctively Arabic, on a chair with his eyes glued to his phone.

"We do not have permission to take their devices."

Cal hummed. So the Secret Service doesn't have the authority to even take cellphones. If one of them was the culprit, then they have a phone to communicate with whoever.

How problematic...

Even stranger, despite having the _President's_ permission, they still needed another permission from the so-called 'U.S. National Representative', which is a position he's never even heard of.

Who _are_ these people?

He narrowed his eyes just as Foster walked in, rapidly looking from them to the agents, Torres following behind her with a frustrated look, which she directed to the young politicians down below once she was close enough to the railing.

"Cal," Foster called, motioning with her hand for him to follow her. He did, and once they were out of the agents' hearing range and out of sight, she sighed. "I've been talking, to the UN agent who organizes these meetings for the U.S. Representative." Her pupils were dilated and she involuntarily swallowed dry, _fear_. "These people, they hold _a lot_ of power, Cal... They can cause a political unrest of global proportions! Maybe even a war!"

Cal's brows furrowed and he shook his head in disbelief. "Bloody hell, woman, have you _seen_ these people?" His hand waved in the general direction where he came from. Foster shook her head and Cal continued before she could. "They're bloody _young_! There isn't a single man or woman over 30 down there!"

Foster blinked, tilting her head in sudden confusion. "Young people have hot-blood, why would any government give this much power to people with not enough experience or wisdom to make these kinds of decisions?"

"Much less our own government?" Cal inquired bemusedly. "We'll see that later, for now we have to get permission from the U.S. National Representative, the NR, even though we already have that from the _President_."

"For the love of... Cal, please be nice! This case is much serious than-"

"Anything else, yes, come on."

Foster followed him with a quiet groan, back to where the agents were waiting, Locker and Torres uncomfortably standing by the railing in silence.

"Alright, let's meet this man and start this investigation." Cal said loudly. The men nodded and opened the door behind them. They all followed.

They continued through a closed hallway, where they went up the stairs and finally stopped at the double doors. One opened it and followed through yet another smaller hallway with another set of double doors.

Two agents stopped at each side like guards and the last agent opened the doors that led them to a bright room with big windows, a king-size bed and all the other furniture you would find at a five-star hotel.

There was a desk full of piled up papers near the window where a young man was sitting, his face facing the window as he spoke with someone on the phone. They caught half of a conversation. "-have a bit of faith in my government, Artie, we'll get this sorted out." He had a clear and loud voice, didn't look any older than 20. He was white and blond, wore wire-glasses and was dressed smartly, but not as tidy as you would expect of a politician. He looked at them with bright sky-blue eyes and smiled a winning 'American-smile'. "Gotta go, Artie, I'll update you on the situation later."

The young man pocketed his phone and strode to them confidently, a hand extending forward. "You must be the Lightman Group, it's great that you could make it! I'm Alfred F. Jones, the U.S. of A Representative at the UN National Representatives!"

Locker nearly laughed at this unexpected attitude.

Cal heard nothing but _pride, pride, and pride_. "Cal Lightman." Cal greeted back, noting the immense lack of hesitation as the man gave him a sharp nod and shook his hand firmly, a little _too_ firmly, and moved to do the same to the others.

 _'Naturally aggressive.'_ Cal noted.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Gillian Foster." She tried not to wince. It seems Jones shook her hands with the same amount of strength.

"Eli Locker," He mumbled an 'ouch'.

"Ria Torres..." Her brows furrowed and she massaged her hand in mild disbelief.

"Great!" The man, now named Alfred Jones, didn't seem to care about whatever pain he just caused – or he didn't notice – and nodded to himself in satisfaction. "You need those permissions, right?"

"And apparently, a non-disclosure agreement, too." Locker quipped.

"Right on!" Jones went back to the desk, rummaging through piles of papers. Cal approached him quietly as the others waited. He saw the SS man who stationed himself inside the room tense as he approached Jones, his lips thinning and curling just enough to not be seen by most people, so Cal remained a few steps away.

"So, _Mr. Jones._ What do you think happened?" He asked casually, watching Jones carefully.

The man's smile dimmed and then disappeared as he slowed his search, sighing. "Man, I dunno..." He said with dismay. "When you _think_ everyone is _kinda_ getting along, _this_ happens!" He threw one hand up in frustration, then went back to his search. "Getting them to trust me again is gonna be tough..."

Jones finally found what he was looking for, it seemed, as he stopped to read a paper he was holding.

"Do you have any suspects, then?"

"Suspects? Hm..." He stopped to think, frowning just a little, tapping his chin with the document. "...Ivan wouldn't be so sneaky, so... need a pen..." He mumbled the last part, opening drawers in search for something to write with.

First name basis? "Russian Representative?" Cal guessed. The SS man was right beside them, a pen offered.

Jones smiled. "Thanks, Jamie!" The agent nodded, fighting back a smile – from what Cal could see – and then walking back to his spot on the corner without taking his eyes off his charge. Jones signed the paper, folding it and then handed it to Cal before resuming his search for something else.

"Anyone else?" Cal continued to probe, reading the form that gave them permission to start this investigation.

Cal found it amazing how open this man was. Every expression was easy to read, everything was expressive in his face, and so, _so_ very honest.

The man winced, hand messing his hair even more. "I dunno, none of them would have a reason to kill _that_ particular senator, and even if they just wanted to hurt me somehow, why not shoot me instead?" His brows furrowed, frowning in some kind of personal pain or sadness, as if being shot was the preferable option.

Cal blinked at the thought. Nah, that can't be it, he was most likely just plain confused at the less logical route the killer took.

"Well, that's what we're here for. So," Cal clapped, ending that topic there. "who was that on the phone?"

Foster gave him an admonishing glare, but Cal ignored it.

The previous expression on Jones' face disappeared so quickly that if Cal had blinked, he would have missed it entirely. He frowned as Jones smiled again.

"Oh, that was my brother, UK Representative. Older British dude of a brother." His tone sounded exasperated and Jones rolled his eyes, but Cal saw a tiny smile and brows tilting upwards, some _fondness_. He had already found the papers he wanted, probably the aforementioned non-disclosure contracts, but ignored it in favor of conversing with Cal.

"Any more family in these political businesses?" He needed to know really. It was rather weird, that people who are related to each other, both hold such prestigious positions in the government.

"Ah..." Jones stopped, letting his eyes wander around as he thought. "Nope, I guess that's all, unless you count Finland's Representative, he's _kind of_ a brother, kinda. There's France's too, but uh... yeah, he's not _exactly_ my brother, even if he says otherwise. He fights a lot with Arthur, though. Was there someone else...? Feels like I'm forgetting someone..." He was rambling and it was incredibly difficult for Cal to believe this _kid_ was a politician.

He was too chatty and he was too _honest_.

So, many people with power, and many are related? If it's government-related, it's suspicious. Something like this would give conspiracy-theorists a field day in heaven. How many of those downstairs have relatives in the same area too? That man with the little girl, they were related, too... Too close in the gene pool not to be.

And what's with the 'kinda related but kinda not really' thing?

"Well, anyway," Jones continued. "I know the Prez-man asked for this, he's probably feeling _really_ paranoid right now, so I'll let you ask everyone some questions. I don't really mind having some upstanding American citizens helping out." There was the winning smile again as he handed Cal non-disclosure agreements, and those two coming hand in hand was actually an incredibly foreboding moment. "Even if you _are_ British."

A bit xenophobic there, but Cal accepted the forms with a nod while Jones moved towards the SS agent in the corner, quickly striking a conversation 'So, how are the kids, Jamie?' while the team assembled to sign.

After Cal was done, he handed the pen to Locker, who was looking at Jones. "That was weird..." He said quietly as he signed, then passing the pen to Torres.

She signed in silence, after a second of hesitation, then handed the pen to Foster, who frowned at Cal.

"I told you to be nice." She whispered.

Cal raised an eyebrow. "I _was_ nice."

" _Immediately_ interrogating him wasn't nice."

"I have permission to interrogate everyone here, remember?" Cal turned to Jones, asking loudly. "How long do we have to finish this?"

Jones turned to them with a bright smile. "Oh, until tomorrow noon. After that, if they decide to leave, we can't stop them."

Cal sighed. It's not much, so he would have to pick people carefully, they couldn't possibly afford to interrogate each and every one of them. "Alright then, thank you." He moved towards the door along with everyone else, but a hand grabbed his elbow, stopping him.

He looked back and saw Jones cheerful smile, slightly less bright than before. The Secret Service agent directly behind and in plain view made Cal tense. "Remember, Mr. Lightman," Jones said, one finger pointed up. "You're here to find out who killed that senator, not to find out who we are or what we do."

After a second, Cal pulled his arm from him, and knowing the man had a strong grip told him that Jones _let_ him move. "I understand that, Mr. Jones." Cal continued facing him, hands in his pockets as he backed away casually. The doors had been opened by the agents outside.

Jones' smile brightened considerably. "Good! I really like what you guys do, so I would _hate_ to charge you with treason!"

Cal knew his team was behind him, with wide eyes, and he was already outside as the agents who had been guarding the door closed them completely, just as Jones waved at them cheerfully.

The Lightman Group remained in complete silence until they were _far away_ from any Secret Service agent. Cal finally spoke first. "Well. That was _exciting_."

Foster merely frowned, as Torres and Locker exchanged uncertain looks. "It won't be if we get arrested. Try and stay out of their business, Cal."

Yeah, right. They were all very good at _that_. "If their business killed a senator, then they'll have to suck it up."

* * *

 **A/N: America sounds a bit creepy here... I took an overall darker perspective, compared to News Feed, but not all that much. Here's mostly because I thought it would make a better crime/mystery story.**

 **Anyone willing to continue this?**

 **I still have a Back to the Future Crossover with Hetalia, along with a The Big Bang Theory Crossover (that I managed without making it sound awkward and cringe-worthy!) which happens to be a _romance (no yaoi)_! That's new to me... **

**Eh, so Review and/or Fave if you liked it! o/**


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